


Sympathy For The Devil

by gokkyun



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5732314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gokkyun/pseuds/gokkyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tragedy thrills Maxwell Roth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sympathy For The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> My (not so) small take on RothFrye because I really like the dynamic and the conflict the ship holds within. Written in approx. 5 hours (+/- lazing around) of watching LCS. Proofread once because I'm lazy. I hope AO3's lines don't fuck up... ANYWAYS.
> 
> Warnings for mild violence, age difference, obvious spoilers for AC Syndicate and mild cursing. Please enjoy and comments/critique very much appreciated! (The title is a Rolling Stones' song btw.)

One might say that there are indeed a lot of people and places that catch one's attention in the massive capital of Great Britain. That saying rarely applies for the younger of the Frye twins though, as Jacob Frye's mind is seldom settled on anything but himself - at least that's what his sister would say about him. And as much as he hates her words that sound disgustingly much like their father's, he knows that there is a glimpse of truth in them. Even if he hates to admit it.

There is a particular day on which a person appears to catch Jacob's attention in a peculiar way though. After all, he should be concentrating on breaking the nose of the bulky man in front of him as it would give him quite the reward to collect from Robert Topping. But instead Jacob's amber eyes gaze through the audience in the Strand district's fighting club - an actual building instead of a bloody boat or the top of a damned fabric building. His gaze halts on a couple of Blighters, but they aren't what interests him (how could they). It's the man that they are standing next to that he is interested in, the confidence in the edges of his smile almost sickening and as if aggravated, Jacob decides to not break his opponent's nose but his arm. The cracking sound of bones is music to his ears and he seeks the eyes of the older man again, gifting him with a cocky smile.

Without caring much about his beat opponent curling into a pathetic ball on the floor, Jacob steps to the edge of the fighting ring. "Care for another round, Mister. Frye?", Robert Topping loudly asks with a grin as he steps closer, rubbing his hands with excitement.

"If you tell me who the devil that bastard over there is.", Jacob merely whispers, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat of his forehead and a trickle of blood from the edge of his mouth as he discreetly points his head towards the odd man in the audience.

"I hope you are kidding.", the bookie says and gives Jacob a questioning look, who just shakes his head in return. "That 'bastard' as you say is one Maxwell Roth. No one ever beat him in this ring - or any other ring I manage, that is. He also appears to be a involved with that Starrick fellow of yours and several not so legal businesses in the underworld.".

Jacob sneers as the menacing name of Starrick forces itself into his ears. Of course a sly-looking bastard like that guy would be a templar.

"Another round then.".

 

* * *

 

It's roughly two weeks later that Jacob finds himself in front of the address written in the letter he has received - and not looked into for about a week. And of course it would be from that bastard. Maxwell Roth. With an annoyed grunt he takes in the view offered to him, a large music hall with glowing letters spelling Alhambra shining in yet another rainy night in London. The younger of the two Frye twins isn't sure why he is even here, why he even considers stepping into a - probable - trap set by one of Starrick's bloody henchman. But then again Evie told him he shouldn't go. So naturally Jacob has to.

After speaking to the weirdly content man at the backdoor, Jacob finds himself on the inside of the fairly large building and around the area that appears to function as the backstage. The man he knows by now is Roth has his back turned to him and Jacob takes a closer look at the so-called extraordinary and uncontrollable boxer. He has a broad back despite his lean stature with long legs that don't seem all too trained. Without even saying a word the man clad in mostly black turns around then, questioning look on his face that immediately turns into a teethful but somewhat threatening smile. Scary. "Ahh! Our honored guest has arrived.", Roth announces loudly and the man's voice startles Jacob for a second there. It's brash and powerful like he has never heard a voice before, surely enforced through several years of alcohol and maybe even cigars. "Come, sit.", the older man continues while pointing at a chair in the middle of the stage.

Jacob isn't sure why he complies to the request of a damned templar, but he does nevertheless. The man seems interesting enough, so he sits down while following Roth's movements and words with weary eyes and tipped ears. Roth explains that he's been watching Jacob for quite some time and that he is growing more and more tired and bored with the ridiculous things Starrick has put him up with. As they talk, Roth moves within inches of Jacob's face, cheshire grin complimenting his aged and rough features while emerald eyes shine bright and hungry in the theatre's twilight.

After hearing Roth out, the most important question of this evening lingers on Jacob's tongue. "What do you get out of all this?", he asks with a questioning look on his face, amber eyes glaring past his top hat with curiosity.

"The chance to have a little fun with the bravest man in London.", Roth answers with delight in his rough voice, gloved fingers pointing at Jacob, who is nothing short of speechless and surprised by the words. No matter if its hidden mockery or open flattery, the young assassin can't help but to lower his head in soft embarrassment (although he knows he deserves these words if they are true), smiling up at Roth.

"You have a deal.".

 

* * *

 

Although Jacob Frye and Maxwell Roth have been doing mutual business for quite some time now, it didn't take the younger of the two longer than their first coup against Starrick to realize that Roth is - in his own twisted and obscure ways - serious about causing the Grand Master trouble. And it also didn't take more than their first night of well-planned mischief together to realize that the rumors Jacob has heard about the man are true, cunning mind paired with precise fists that deliver brute punches to whoever dares to stand in the way of his plans.

Roth's body is a weapon just as much as Jacob's is, only that the older man's movements seem to be much more graceful and fluid, like a deadly dance no one can stop. It's not long before he knows why, Roth telling the assassin about his past, how he ran away from oh-so-loving parents just to join a similar circus to the one in which he grew up. He trained there just to return with a reigning hand over the underworld - until he catches Starrick's interest. The older tells him a lot more, because boy could that man talk and for once Jacob loved to simply listen.

Because as much as Jacob hates to admit it, he admires Roth's brain and brawn kind of way to handle problems and people alike. It's mostly the brawn part though and the assassin notices the odd feeling surfacing in his stomach (again) one night as the duo causes havoc to yet another of Starrick's more important factories. With lightly widened eyes Jacob watches the older man, watches how his rough features are unusually stern yet cocksure, his teethful grin flashing every now and then as he fights, as he breaks people's limbs and hears their begging whimpers, cracking his fingers playfully as three of Starrick's henchmen go for him at once. "Show me what you have, boys.", he purrs and its magnificent to Jacob how Roth maneuvers, no, dances around them before his gloved fists connect with their faces and vital points several times.

Much to Jacob's dismay he forgets that he is part of this brawl as well, getting violently reminded of it as a fist hits his nose, sending him tumbling backwards. He catches himself fast enough to slap away the knife in the brute man's hands, cutting himself lightly while doing so. And as if that isn't enough, the much taller man throws Jacob in his distracted state to the ground, the assassin preparing to feel another sting in his face when Roth's long legs kick the Blighter to the ground with full force. Jacob watches with surprise as man's body flies to the ground, Roth following up on it just to deliver a few more kicks and occasional punches to him before huffing in satisfaction, turning his attention back to the assassin.

"Now, now, what happened there?", Roth asks as the edges of his mouth curl up softly, offering his gloved hand to Jacob who accepts it with a defeated frown.

Back up on his feet, Jacob looks at the ground and his busted top hat, stepped on by someone as it seems and he can't hold back the snarl that follows - he never liked that overly fancy thing anyways, Evie telling him how important it would be to wear the "proper etiquette" once one set foot in London.

The trail of the young assassin's thoughts gets interrupted as he feels a sudden warm hand on his jawline, blinking a few times before he notices that Roth's fingers are onto him, ungloved for the first time. "That bloke got you quite good, darling.", Roth remarks, his long and calloused fingers shifting Jacob's face a few times, green eyes observing.

"'Darling'?", Jacob asks with a questioning look on his face, grunting in slight pain as the way Roth moves his head hurts his damaged nose.

"You don't like it?", Roth whispers with an odd sparkle in his eyes to which Jacob just shrugs. Hell, he tends to call people names so why not let that man call him names for once. And if the assassin is being honest with himself, he likes it - he likes the attention Roth offers Jacob by calling him names, just how he does by complimenting him in the most obvious ways. He knows that the older man tends to be manipulative with his exaggerated body language and the nature of his carefully chosen words and yet the assassin can't help but to be wrapped up in the net of Roth's actions and speeches. "That pretty nose of yours seems to be fine though, my dear.".

"Lucky me.", Jacob says with the sarcastic undertone Evie hates so much, flinching as Roth's other hand - also ungloved - joins in, a red handkerchief roughly swiping the blood from under the assassin's nose away before putting it back into the pocket of his black coat.

Roth's hands don't leave Jacob's face though, softly brushing over the scar on his eyebrow and beard. "Didn't seem to have been so lucky when you received these, eh?".

"Took a fight or two ... or more ... too far.", Jacob admits, a soft shiver running down his spine at the feeling of Roth's fingertips tracing over the messy stubble of his beard.

"It is a thrill, is it not?", the older man smirks as he takes his hands back to himself. "To not pause until blood is flowing.".

"It is.".

 

* * *

 

Over the next couple of days, the duo's meetings become more frequent. Jacob wants to put an end to them before he or his actions turn everything upside down once again - he seems to have this talent ever since he's arrived in London. And yet he can't stop slipping through Roth's windows (because what kind of assassin uses bloody doors) and into another one of their adventures, attracted like a moth to the flame, although scared to get too close and burned.

Obviously the two of them prefer the feigned silence of London's night to carry out their plans - that grow from Roth's mind most of the time.

"You're not so bad for a templar.", Jacob says with a smug grin as they pass through the central city's streets one night, Roth's carriage a few streets ahead of them. Soft rain is pouring down on them and for once Jacob curses himself for not listening to Evie to get his bloody top hat fixed, hair wet. However, his amber eyes are busy observing Roth's rough face, those (alluring) eyes of his returning the assassin's gaze with the usual smile. "Not bad at all.".

"My dear boy, I told you countless of times I am not one of them. Merely a pawn in the great Crawford Starrick's magnificent yet surprisingly boring game of power. Or so he thinks. No, wishes, hah!.", Roth explains, shrugging. Jacob then feels the older man's strong grip on his wrist, leading, no, pulling him into one of London's several side alleys, harshly pushing the assassin against a house's wall. Accompanying Roth always held the promise of experiencing something unexpected and the thing that comes next is one of these experiences - even if Jacob might secretly have guessed it would happen sooner or later, maybe even have anticipated it. "You're not so bad yourself, darling.", Roth whispers and Jacob can't help but to shiver as the older man traps him between the wall and his slightly taller form. Roth moves his face closer to Jacob's then, feeling the other's breath against his lips. "To tell you the truth, I do not care for anyone but you in this bloody city.".

It's a mere heartbeat later that Jacob feels the soft fabric of Roth's gloves on his cheeks, harshly cupping his face. The warmth pressing from the other's clothed hands against his skin is comforting and Jacob cherishes the feeling, even though he knows he shouldn't. It's not that Roth is a man - because when did Jacob ever care about what the law or the bloody society thinks - but the man is part of Starrick's and whereas he rebels against him, Roth's anarchistic behavior doesn't seem so much better.

The thoughts in Jacob's brain vanish as he makes the mistake to gaze into Roth's eyes, emeralds glistening with feral hunger in the rainy night's twilight. The older man then closes the small gap that is left between their faces, eager lips crushing against the assassin's whose dark eyes are wide with shock even though he expected all of this. Yet Jacob can't hold himself back as he grabs Roth's collar and although he intends to push the man away, he instead pulls their bodies even closer against each other.

Jacob feels Roth smirk against his lips with winning confidence and he growls in return, allowing himself to close his eyes as he grants Roth's impatiently pressing tongue entrance into his mouth. The assassin feels his cheeks grow hotter under the soft rain droplets, the older man's tongue slipping into his oral cavity and exploring it, with passion and aggression. And while Jacob doesn't have the biggest experience with these kind of things (and until now the mouth of another man was foreign territory to him anyways), he has never felt like this from a simple kiss - or even from other things. The feeling of burning up - like a moth flying to close to flame -, the feeling of being breathless but still wanting to continue and hell, the way Jacob's and Roth's tongues entangle and fight is simply compelling.

Their kiss continues until Jacob's breathlessness wins over his newly found lust and he finally uses his hands that are still roughly holding onto Roth's collar for what they were first placed there - to push the older man away the slightest bit, parting their faces but not their bodies. It takes a moment (or two or three) for the assassin to catch his breath and his composure, opening his eyes that immediately hold gaze with Roth's waiting eyes, grinning back at Jacob.

"Not bad at all, darling.".

 

* * *

 

Jacob isn't sure what to think when Roth shifts their occasional bottle of wine over a successful plan from the Alhmabra to his private apartment. It's not much of a detour as the man seems obsessed enough with his legal as well as his illegal work to have his place right next to the illustrious music hall. And yet the assassin is quite sure that Roth has something in mind (he always has) and what he has in mind. But maybe Jacob doesn't mind, his head settling with the idea that maybe once in his life it wouldn't be such a bad idea to rely and actually trust a person other than himself (or his pretentious sister and her stupid piece of Eden).

So now Jacob is sitting in Roth's apartment, luxurious carpet under his bare feet as he rests on a red couch similar in design to the one Agnes had recently purchased for Bertha. A small coffee table is in front of him, Roth's little raven and its cage standing on it, the animal chirping cheerfully despite its inevitable prison.

"Aren't you all for freedom?", Jacob asks, resting his hands on the back of his head, fixed top hat and heavy jacket discarded at the entrance of Roth's apartment, just like his boots.

Roth gives him a questioning look while placing two glasses and a bottle of wine on the table - his finest wine as the older man had stated earlier. Not like Jacob could taste the difference. "Of course, my dear boy. What makes you think I am not?".

"That little fellow here.".

"Because that fellow, as my dear boy calls it, sings even when caged. Peculiar, is it not? How he acts as if free even though he is not.", Roth explains with a knowing smirk playing around his lips, walking around the room to underline his words with his overly expressive body language. Those remarkable eyes of his then settle on Jacob, whose eyes are fixated on the older man with unshared attention. "Now, Jacob.", Roth offers his ungloved hand to the assassin, as if asking for a dance and Jacob isn't sure whether he should accept or not. "Will you sing for me, even if I trap you in my arms' hold?".

A frown settles on Jacob's face then, although a smile crosses his lips. "I'm not quite sure I understand what you are saying or if I'm willing to grant you that request - if it is one.", he says while accepting the older's hand.

"Oh, you will grant me my request.", Roth growls with the harsh edge of roughness in his voice that makes Jacob shiver with anticipation, arousal by now even, and Roth pulls him to his feet without effort. "My demand.".

Both of Roth's hands quickly find their way on either side of Jacob's hips then, pulling their bodies against one another. It's not a dance that begins then, it's an interlude to what is to come tonight and when Jacob gazes into those ever hungry eyes that seem like they are about to devour him, he's sure of it. The assassin is the one who takes lead then though, pressing his lips against Roth's while placing his hands on the older man's lower arms, needy fingers trailing all the way up to Roth's shoulders, one of his hands traveling even further up to brush over and finally hold the scarred side of the other's face.

The kiss is not a deep one, not a fierce one like it is most of the between the two men but Jacob feels the warmth in his stomach and around his cheekbones grow nevertheless. His hand that isn't in command of his hidden blade is still busy holding the side of Roth's face, thumb caressing over the deformed flesh and its irregularities. Roth has a couple of soft scars in his face, but the story about the ominous scar is the one that interested Jacob the most. The man apparently earned it as a souvenir from one of his several visits in prison, visits caused from crimes and visits caused from kissing men in public (that didn't stop Roth from doing it with a surprised and afterwards flustered Jacob).

All of a sudden the assassin feels the grip on his hips tighten, sighing through his nose with pleasure. Roth then leads both of them through the room, lips and hands never parting from each other and Jacob only dares to open his eyes and pull away from the kiss once their feet stop moving.

They are in another room now, not much light in it except for the dim twilight of the night and the street lights shining in through a closed window. A fairly large bed stands on the other side of the small room (yet bigger than any room Jacob has ever owned), its sheets tangled up. Aside from that, there aren't a lot of other objects except for an oversized wardrobe that would indicate this as a bedroom, decorative items that Jacob's partially can't quite identify scattered all over, adding a luxurious and extravagant touch. "Charming.", the assassin says, smirking as he turns his head back to Roth.

"Aren't I?", Roth whispers, returning the smirk as he leans closer, breathing his words against the sensitive skin of Jacob's neck who shivers at the feeling, even more so when he feels the other man's rough lips and the soft tingling of his moustache against his neck. The kisses Roth plants there are light until teeth occasionally join in, teasing skin before sucking on it and bloody hell whenever the older man does this, Jacob can't help but to release a muffled moan.

Roth's fingers are quick to open the buttons on Jacob's vest and slip it and his shirt off of him, leaving his upper body completely naked except from his necklace and the heavy gauntlet containing his hidden blade. "Mind taking that off, darling?", Roth murmurs against his neck.

"The gauntlet or the necklace?", Jacob jokes, leaning his neck further to the side to grant the older man more access to his already heated skin. He doesn't wait for an answer though, making quick work of the gauntlet that is seemingly stuck to his forearm most of the time, letting it drop to the ground unceremoniously (lazy as he is he's done this enough times to know nothing of the accessories murderous and less murderous gadgets will active). The assassin then feels Roth's fingers explore the now revealed skin, trailing from Jacob's forearms up to the muscles on his upper arm, feeling them up before continuing to his shoulders. Roth's lips follow up, lips tracing over the tattoo on Jacob's collarbone. "I wanted to lay my lips and fingers upon it ever since I first saw it move in perfect unison with your body.", Roth admits. "Covered in other people's blood, you looked dashing.".

"Flatterer.", Jacob replies jokingly, his voice softer than usual, already slightly hoarse. Then he decides that it's his turn to get rid of the upper part of Roth's clothing, groaning with annoyance at the red scarf and the black vest, holding him off the older man's shirt which he reaches nevertheless, roughly pulling all of it from Roth's body, slightly tossing his black hair. Jacob's eyes are fixated on the other man's body then, never having actually seen it, only felt it under the layers of finely tailored fashion. It's a lot more muscular than one might think, pale skin clustered with scars of varying sizes. There had never been any kind of hesitation to Jacob when it came to touching people, yet he feels himself hesitate as he slowly trails his fingertips over the scarred skin of Roth's chest and stomach. It's magnificent, Jacob thinks, how there is a story more violent and breathtaking than the last behind those scars and damn it, he wants to hear all of them.

And even though Roth will surely tell him about these scars, it's not the time for that right now. Jacob knows this, knows this even more when Roth's hands are on his wrists, guiding both of them yet another couple of steps closer to the bed. Roth even sits down on it, staring up at the assassin with his everlasting and smug smile while his eyes glisten with primal need.

Without effort Roth pulls Jacob even closer and between the older's spread legs. "You are quite beautiful, my dear boy.", Roth breathes against Jacob's skin, lips pressing against his defined stomach. The older's left hand then teasingly brushes against the growing bulge that presses against Jacob's pants while keeping up with the feather-light kisses and the assassin can't muffle any of the moans escaping from his body in time, hands finding hold on Roth's shoulders. "See now? You're starting to sing, even when trapped in my hands.".

"You ... sly devil. Should've known you had something in that mind of yours.", Jacob barely whispers between another moan, even though its less audible. He can't seem to hold back his voice now, not when Roth is roughly cupping his cock through the fabric of his pants while the man's lips and the soft hair of his moustache tease the muscles of his stomach. It's not long now that Jacob's heart impatiently pounds against his chest with anticipation while the familiar feeling in his stomach becomes more and more prominent - as familiar as can be with Jacob's amount of experience, or therefor lack of it. Sure, he's had women but he can count these on one hand and he might or might not even need all of his fingers. And sure, he teases men in a suggestive manner (he loves how offended some of them turn out to act upon it) but having a man touching him like this is something new to him. Something he thought he wouldn't enjoy as much as he currently does.

Jacob inhales sharply all of a sudden, feeling the surrounding air hit his cock as Roth's long and skillful fingers pull his pants and underwear down his legs with one swift motion and without caring much, Jacob steps out of them, kicking the pieces of clothing away. "My darling boy Jacob, in all his glory.", Roth growls with a smirk, voice low, complimented by its natural roughness, causing the little hairs on Jacob's neck to stand - it might also be the tips of Roth's middle and index-finger trailing over the curve of his freed, stiff cock.

"Damn -", the assassin curses at the light touches ghosting over his erection, feeling his knees grow weaker and weaker. And so Jacob decides to move forward, straddling Roth and pressing their bodies together, skin against skin, Jacob's cock brushing against Roth's bare stomach. "Maxwell-", he groans with lust as the older man's hands dig into his ass and before Roth could utter a word in return - because Jacob knows just how much the man loves hearing his name like this, from Jacob's lips no less - Jacob's hands are on either side of Roth's face to force their lips together, meeting in a heated and promising kiss.

And while both of their tongues meet between their mouths and intertwine in a messy dance, Jacob's hands grow impatient soon. They make their path away from Roth's face, fingernails leaving bruising trails over his shoulders and chest before the assassin reaches the rim of the other's trousers, greedy fingers opening its button before pulling on them. And with that, Jacob realizes just how desperate he had become over the course of the past minutes but Roth seems no different now, catching the assassin's lower lip between his teeth before biting into it, his hands all over Jacob's ass and upper thighs.

Neither one nor the other can keep quiet now, sighing and moaning against each other's lips. And yet Roth forces his tongue inside Jacob's mouth, eager and possessive, exploring it before reaching deep, so deep that Jacob whimpers and damn it all he can't hold back the roll of his hips that follows, wanting more of this treatment.

Though too soon Jacob pulls back, panting heavily to catch his breath, more than satisfied as Roth does the same, a soft flush spreading on the bridge of the older's nose. Although his breathlessness doesn't stop Roth from pressing a curled finger beneath Jacob's chin and his thumb on it, forcing the assassin's head to tilt down and the amber and emerald pairs of eyes to meet. "Oh Jacob, so impatient, wanting it all. As always.", Roth teases and Jacob replies with nothing but a cocky smirk, pressing his lower body down on the man's still clothed cock, sighing at the feeling of how stiff it is as his hands tug on the man's pants again that just won't come off thanks to Roth's sitting position.

"You seem to have the same problem at hand. So do something about it.", Jacob says, still holding Roth's gaze. He knows that the older man feels the heat radiating from his face, his cheeks feeling just as hot as his body, most likely flushed (it happens to Jacob so easily when confronted with more than simple teasing).

Roth laughs amused, sharp and perfect teeth showing. "Be a dear and hand me the bottle in the second drawer then.".

With a questioning look accompanied by a frown Jacob frees his hands from the futile attempt of removing Roth's trousers, instead leaning his upper body to the left to reach inside the drawer, grabbing aforementioned bottle. Far too nosey, he inspects the small object and comes to the conclusion that its olive oil. Jacob feels his face grow even hotter then, having heard from a couple of lads what men who prefer men (and apparently even women) use it for. Of course he knows what he and Roth are going for here and yet he realizes that what he's heard so far doesn't sound very - thrilling.

"Don't worry your pretty head about it.", Roth interrupts the seemingly obvious turmoil of Jacob's thoughts, taking the bottle in his hand and opening it. "It hurts less than a man punching that nose of yours. At least after a while.".

Jacob snarls - he's had bullets and knives stuck in him, experienced pain he thought couldn't get any worse (but boy did it get worse) so he's not going to shy away from - - this. At least that's what he thinks, what he hopes, until he feels one of Roth's hands back on his ass while the coated index-finger of the other hand nudges against his entrance. It doesn't hesitate to push inside, past the tight rim and into the assassin who groans, rather in pain than pleasure, laying his hands on Roth's shoulders and digging his nails into the skin there.

Roth's finger moves back and forth without hesitating, Jacob noticing whenever he opens his eyes (which barely occurs as of right now) that the older's gaze is fixated on him, finger moving according to Jacob's face and body. Because as much as it hurts, there's the coming and going feeling of pleasure lingering in some of Roth's movements, growing stronger the further the single finger invades him. However, Jacob is forced to whimper and accept another wave of frustrating pain when a second finger joins in, the pressure in and around his hole becoming too much once again.

"Maxwell - -", Jacob huffs with exhaustion, pressing his face against the scarred side of Roth's, swallowing hard when the other man makes a scissor movement with his fingers, spreading the assassin's insides delicately. A sudden sensation sweeps over Jacob's body when he feels the curl of those fingers through, pressing repeatedly against what appears to be his sweet spot and the more it got treated, the more Jacob feels the dull pain fade away, feeling himself and his entrance relax.

To Jacob's dismay, Roth removes his fingers after listening to a couple of throaty and pleasured moans next to his ear. The assassin is about to protest when Roth grabs his hips, lifting him off his lap and onto the bed with mild effort. With wide and curious eyes Jacob observes as Roth then makes quick work of his remaining clothing - socks, trousers and finally underwear come off with a few swift movements. And then the younger of the two can't help but to let his eyes wander between Roth's legs, letting them rest on other man's cock, surrounded by soft black curls.

There isn't a lot of time for Jacob to gaze longer though, Roth doing quick work of spreading the assassin's leg who is positioned on his back. It doesn't stop at that, Jacob's right leg being placed on Roth's shoulders who holds onto it with one hand and Jacob's hips with the other, surely leaving marks. And Jacob feels exposed, so exposed as those wanting green eyes look up and down his body; the shaking groan that slips past his parted lips as the curled tip of Roth's cock pushes against his wet hole not helping at all.

And then it is back, that stinging yet somewhat enjoyable pain as Roth rolls his hips forward and invades Jacob for the second time this evening, his pliant opening being spread further and further, more than he thinks he can possibly handle. Both of the men can't keep their voices down for good now, Jacob releasing several gasps and whimpers, unable to form proper words nor coherent thoughts while Roth groans harshly in the back of his throat, the assassin's fingers leaving more marks on his back and shoulders with his fingernails.

"Ro--th-", Jacob finally manages to whisper, his voice still shaking while Roth pushes deeper and deeper inside of him. He throws his head back into the comfort of the pillows, exposing his neck to the other man who immediately takes advantage of it - as it is in his nature. Jacob squeezes his eyes shut as Roth's lips ghost over his neck, viciously scrapping his teeth along the tender and sweaty flesh, surely leaving marks, his marks, marks similar to the ones already burned into Jacob's hips and thighs (he loves them, wants more of them, wants them all over his body).

Not only Jacob's voice shakes but his body as well when Roth's cock hits the same spot the man's fingers had hit before and the assassin wishes he had control of himself as of right now - simply to suppress the cry forcing its way past his lips. But Roth doesn't seem to mind, - when did he ever mind Jacob being vocal - pulling back out but never entirely leaving the heat of Jacob's hole, just to roughly snap his hips back forward, pushing back inside hard.

The sensations that overflow Jacob now are almost unbearable, the pleasure overcoming the pain easily whilst the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh indicates yet another savage thrust against the sweet bundle of nerves inside of him. "My dear Jacob -", Roth growls between sounds of pleasure and miserable attempts to catch his breath. "- so good.".

By now Jacob is delirious, barely able to recognize the repetitive words Roth mutters against the hot flesh of his neck between bites and the rough but oh-so-good thrusts of his hips. He feels his stomach tighten more and more, feels the demand for release from his impatiently throbbing cock as his thighs and hips shiver with each and every hard pulse of Roth's cock against his inner walls. Jacob's fingertips wander from the older man's sweat-dampened back to his head, long fingers lacing through dark hair, rough and demanding as he pulls Roth up, face to face.

Unmet lust waits in those emerald eyes, even more so as Jacob feels them hover over his face, flushed with half-lidded amber eyes, mouth hanging open with groans and whimpers, even occasional cries, spilling out of it - making no attempts to silence those noises anymore. And how could he, Roth's hips moving with unforgiving fervor and rhythm, both of their climaxes moving closer and closer, Jacob's unbearably so when Roth's hands on his hips lets go off it just to wrap itself around Jacob's aching cock, squeezing and stroking it, teasingly pressing his thumb against the with pre-cum leaking tip.

Jacob wants to give a warning, wants to whimper senseless words of pleasure but it's all too much too soon - so instead he roughly grasps onto the strands of Roth's dark hair, pulling the man closer and burying his own face into the crook of the other's neck. Without hesitating he bites into the hot flesh for a mere second there before his own cry interrupts his action, Jacob's body trembling as his orgasm hits him hard, covering Roth's eagerly working hand in his release. It doesn't take Roth long to follow, Jacob noticing how his still wet hole tightens around the older man's cock, how Roth's uneven moans echo in his ear almost drown out the harsh sounds of flesh against flesh.

Roth growls Jacob's name several times then, like an unholy chant and the assassin groans as he feels the heavy and several throbs of the other's cock inside of him, the sticky hotness that fills him up causing him to once more tighten his grip on Roth's hair, pressing their heated and sweaty bodies even closer.

A few lazy and worn-out rolls of Roth's hips follow, riding out the aftermath of his orgasm while his hand pumps Jacob's still leaking cock and Jacob doesn't mind either, neither does he mind when Roth's and his mouth meet in a tired kiss, lazily brushing against one another, unusually tender despite the harsh marks, scratches and bites on both of their skins.

As their lips parts neither of them speak for once, eyes gazing into eyes as blissful silence surrounds them.

 

* * *

 

Jacob cannot stop these kind of thoughts and memories of Roth that ghost through his by smoke clouded head as he stands under London's glimmering night sky once again, the burning Alhambra Music Hall in front of him.

Where it all began.

Where it all ends now.

The taste of Roth's blood-stained lips still rests on Jacob's, a taste like copper and iron, a taste he didn't want to have stuck on him - not anymore. Just like he doesn't want the shiver that goes down his spine as he remembers the stroke of Roth's fingers on his naked skin, his scent of fine wine and pressed flowers that still lingers in his nose despite the smoke and fire surrounding them during their - no, Roth's, - final act.

"As far as my eye can see, only perfection in you.", Roth would whisper against Jacob's flushed skin more than once as their bodies were intertwined - also more than once. The man would take Jacob, would break Jacob, in the best ways possible and Jacob knew all of it, knew that it was a perfect set of fun and games to either of them. Because neither ever spoke of love, because love isn't for everyone. And yet he feels an unbearable ache in his heart, saw in Roth's dying emerald eyes that he harbored not only hunger and lust but a similar ache.

But what was it Roth used to say?

"Tragedy thrills me.".


End file.
